The Kaffer servants were not there because Tant Sannie
held they were descended from apes, and needed no salvation. But the rest
were gathered for the Sunday service, and waited the officiator.
Meanwhile Bonaparte and the German approached arm in arm--Bonaparte
resplendent in the black cloth clothes, a spotless shirt, and a spotless
collar; the German in the old salt-and-pepper, casting shy glances of
admiration at his companion.
At the front door Bonaparte removed his hat with much dignity, raised his
shirt collar, and entered. To the centre table he walked, put his hat
solemnly down by the big Bible, and bowed his head over it in silent
prayer.
The Boer-woman looked at the Hottentot, and the Hottentot looked at the
Boer-woman.
There was one thing on earth for which Tant Sannie had a profound
reverence, which exercised a subduing influence over her, which made her
for the time a better woman--that thing was new, shining black cloth. It
made her think of the predikant; it made her think of the elders who sat in
the top pew of the church on Sundays, with the hair so nicely oiled, so
holy and respectable, with their little swallow-tailed coats; it made her
think of heaven, where everything was so holy and respectable, and nobody
wore tancord, and the littlest angel had a black-tailed coat.
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